


Mix It Up

by Severina



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Oz (TV), Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: community: tv_universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But her senses are still on high alert, and she whirls as soon as she hears the soft shuffle in the leaves behind her. Too stealthy to be a walker, too precise. Her crossbow swings up regardless, because she remembers the group outside Texarkana, knows that walkers aren't the only thing to fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mix It Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of three stories, written for the "Team-Ups" prompt at LJ's tv_universe community. The premise was to write one fic teaming up two "good guys" from different TV shows, then one fic teaming up two "bad guys". The final challenge was to pit both teams against each other.
> 
> My good guys are Daryl Dixon and Buffy. My bad guys are The Governor and Vern Schillinger (from Oz). Please note: Vern is a racist. His views are not mine.
> 
> * * *

**Story 01:** Good Guys  
 **Word Count:** 562

She tries to keep them all safe. But the walkers aren't like vampires. They have nothing to prove. They don't get winded. She can break their brittle bones like matchsticks and they still keep coming. 

She loses Willow outside of Albuquerque, to a horde that swells in size until there is nowhere to run, no way to fight. She tries, anyway. She leaps over downed bodies, crushes skulls until there is not a piece of her that is not covered with the dark, viscous fluid that passes for a walker's blood. She sees Willow vanish beneath a mass of snapping jaws and decaying limbs and can't reach her. It takes a full two minutes before her best friend stops screaming.

Xander makes it as far as Wichita Falls, but he truly died the moment Willow disappeared under that pile of rotting bodies.

Dawn. Dawn leaves her a note, scrawled in the dust on the hood of an old Buick where they've sheltered for the night. _I am not meant for this life._

Buffy spends two weeks searching for her. Once she's removed her spent arrow from her sister's skull, she cries for the first time since that initial, awful night; since running into Giles's house and finding the skin stretched pale and grey over his body, the dried blood staining his mouth, his lips pulled back in a snarl; since he grabbed Faith and sunk his teeth into the meat of her bicep and bit, ripped. Chewed. 

By the time she reaches Georgia she's alone. Exhausted. 

But her senses are still on high alert, and she whirls as soon as she hears the soft shuffle in the leaves behind her. Too stealthy to be a walker, too precise. Her crossbow swings up regardless, because she remembers the group outside Texarkana, knows that walkers aren't the only thing to fear. 

The man already has the drop on her, his own arrow pointed unerringly at her head, his finger hesitating at the trigger of his crossbow. She takes a breath, and only then smells the blood from the kill. Her eyes dart beyond the man to the carcass of the deer, its blood staining the carpet of leaves, seeping into the dry earth. 

It's been a long time since she's had fresh meat. Her stomach rumbles.

Buffy hears the whoosh of the arrow leaving his crossbow, knows in that instant that she's made her fatal mistake. She starts to dive to the right, knows that she's not going to be fast enough. One look at the man was enough to tell her that he knows what he's doing. She just hopes he takes her brain once she's dead. She doesn't want to come back. 

She lands on her side, blinks in surprise at the very fact that she's still alive, still whole. She's on her feet a heartbeat later, just in time to see the walker that was shambling up behind her stagger back with the man's arrow protruding from one rotting eye socket. She swallows dryly, lowers the knife that had jumped seamlessly into her hand when the man shuffles past her to crouch down and remove the arrow.

He wipes the arrow on his dirty trousers, slides it into the makeshift quiver at his back. Squints at her before jutting his chin toward the deer. "Name's Daryl," he says in greeting. "Hungry?"

**

**Story 02:** Bad Guys  
 **Word Count:** 452

Martinez lowers the binoculars, eyes wary. "You sure about this, Governor?"

Philip turns his back on the prison, on the walkers shambling around outside the fences. On the barbed wire and locked gates and foot-thick walls. 

It's not only Martinez that looks skeptical. The rest of his crew looks restless, unsure. And a nervous army gets careless. A nervous army makes mistakes.

"Vern," he calls out, "tell them what you told me."

The man frowns, but steps forward. Vern had been delirious with heat stroke when they found him, near dead at the side of the road. That hadn't stopped him from spewing a hell of a lot of hate at his rescuers. Seemed the man took offense to being saved by a bunch of "spics and niggers". Philip himself had had to step in before things went too far south, something he was willing to do because he saw something in Vern Schillinger. Something that he could use. A few gentle words, a few subtle indications that he may possibly agree with the man's views – that was all it took to get Vern in line.

He can bring any dog to heel. 

"That door," Vern says, pointing toward the rear of the yard, "leads to the garbage bins. Concrete room, just outside the kitchen. Prison this size, there'll be about ten of them, lined up against the wall. Garbage truck rolls up to the door, guard inside buzzes it in. Truck rolls right into the room and empties the bins."

"How's that going to help us?" someone in the back yells. "You think that Sheriff's just gonna buzz us in?"

"Electricity's out, numbnuts," Vern snaps over the answering murmurs of agreement. "And that door? No damn different than your standard garage door. Once the power goes, it's only held closed by a couple of bolts. Take them out, door slides up. Any biters inside? Just toss in a few grenades. You boys got enough of those. And then your whole town can just waltz right the fuck in." 

"We're just supposed to take your word for it?" the same person calls out.

Philip lays a hand on Vern's shoulder quickly, squeezes gently. He's spotted the dissenter now, one of the DuPont boys. Kid's barely eighteen, but that's still old enough to know better. Kid oughtn't to be shooting his mouth off, stirring up trouble. He glances to his right, catches Martinez's eye and sees the answering nod before he turns his attention back to the crowd. "Vern here has some experience in these matters," he says.

"Had members of the Brotherhood in every damn prison in the U.S. of A.," Vern says proudly. "You wanted a way in? Just follow me."

**

**Story 03:** Good Guys and Bad Guys  
 **Word Count:** 1032

When she sees the strangers lurking on the embankment, Buffy's first thought is _typical_. Move to a new school? It's on the hellmouth. Get a superhot boyfriend? He's a vampire. Find some nice people to hang out with at the end of the world? Their prison gets invaded. 

"You see 'em?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah, I see them," Rick says. He eases away from the roof ledge, scrubs a hand over the stubble on his chin. "About twenty-five, near as I can tell."

"Told ya," Buffy says. "They were trying to be all sneaky-like over there. Like… sloths." She frowns. "Wait. Are sloths sneaky?"

"They're slow," Rick says.

"Well, these guys are that, too." 

"You got good eyes," Daryl tells her before turning to Rick. "One in the front is the Governor. Recognize a couple of his flunkies. And the one beside him… the bald guy? He's new, but I know him, too. From before."

"Before?" Rick prompts.

Daryl looks uncomfortable, but he faces Rick head on. "Name's Vern Schillinger. He was one of Merle's prison buddies."

"Bad?" Buffy asks.

"Bad enough," Daryl answers, his gaze drifting to her. "They drifted apart when Merle got into the meth. Schillinger had a hard-on for dealers, hated junkies. Rumour had it that he kidnapped a couple of kids sometime after that. Killed one of 'em, too." 

"Okay," Buffy says, "can I kill that one twice?"

"Can if you let him turn first."

Buffy considers the possibility seriously for a second, blinks when Rick opens his mouth to protest. Sometimes he reminds her so much of Giles – without all the books and stuff. She shakes away the thought, slots the memories back where they belong. "Kidding," she says, holding up her hands. "Head shots only, I promise."

"So," Daryl asks, "what's the plan?" 

Rick squares his shoulders. "We stop them before they get inside."

Buffy shakes her head. She's seen their limited weaponry, knows just how few bullets they have left. They could take down some of the Woodburians, sure. But some would sneak past, penetrate their defenses. And every cell block they get through would then be left open to the walkers, leaving them even more vulnerable to attack from the undead. 

"We could do that," Buffy says. "Or we could try something else."

* * *

Buffy's the bait.

The men protest, because duh. She parkours up to the second tier and that shuts down most of the raging testosterone in the cell block pretty quick. She does agree to let Daryl and Glenn join her. Glenn because he's fast, and Daryl because they need stealthy back-up, and he's good with the crossbow. Besides, she's seen the way Daryl looks at Glenn. No way he'd be happy letting Glenn dart right into the middle of the shit-storm without having his back.

The explosions go off just as planned, her group taking shots at the invaders as soon as the door is breached. The Governor stays toward the back, but Buffy watches, waits… and sees him go down with a perfectly aimed shot to the middle of the forehead. She glances back, sees the bitter smile on Maggie's face. 

Then the prison group falls back and it's up to the three of them. Buffy and Glenn dash through the tombs, let themselves be seen just often enough, return fire just frequently enough to lead the invaders exactly where they want them. Her plan only goes awry once, when she takes a wrong turn in the dark and ends up at the south barricade, with walkers snarling at her back and Vern Schillinger with his gun pointed unerringly at her chest. 

"Calm down now, sweetpea," Schillinger says as he advances. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Pretty little thing like you is exactly what we need." The man smirks. "Gotta repopulate the earth, you know."

Buffy glances down at her gun, prepares to dive and shoot. But Daryl's arrow takes the man in the back of the head before she's done more than complete the thought. Vern flops at her feet, dead before he hits the ground.

Buffy nods at Daryl before sprinting away. Stealthy back-up is the best. She's only sorry she didn't get to kill Schillinger's child-murdering ass herself.

She leads the invaders into the industrial laundry, avoids the rotting hands and snapping teeth. Waits until Glenn and Daryl have cleared the room, skidding to a stop beside her in the hallway, breathless and sweat-soaked. Then she shuts and bolts the door.

* * *

Even from the concrete yard, huddled as close to the fence as she dares, Carol thinks she can hear the screams. She shivers beneath the noonday sun. "Doesn't seem right," she murmurs.

"They kidnapped our people, tried to kill them. They came here to finish the job," Rick points out. 

"Being torn apart by walkers is too good for them," Glenn spits out.

"And when it's over?" Carol asks. "That room is full of walkers. The halls leading to it, too."

"We've been through this," Rick says. "There's ductwork on the second level. We crawl through, take out every walker in the laundry from there. Then we block off the south end of the prison." Rick's hand is warm on her arm. "We'll be safer than we were before. From walkers and the Governor's people."

"Ain't none of the Governor's people left," Daryl says.

Carol shakes her head, pulls away from Rick's comforting presence. The Governor was an evil man. She knows it. But to be trapped, to be… eaten. Does anyone deserve that? Did Ed deserve it, even after what he did to her? After what he thought about doing to her baby girl? She thought so, once. But things are different now. Perhaps it's because it's still too easy to imagine Sophia, the terror she must have felt, the pain she must have endured when that walker bit into her flesh. She shakes her head again, swipes a hand over her eyes. She feels like she just doesn't know anything, anymore.

"We're safe now," Maggie says.

"As long as the vampires stay away," Buffy says softly.

Carol feels her eyes widen. "Vampires?"

Buffy gulps. "Was that out loud?"


End file.
